Sunday, January 19, 2014


Today I met an American man at the arrival hall whose shirt was soaked to the point that it looked like someone had pelted a pail of water on him, sweat glands at the maximum with expulsion, his right arm clinging to a handkerchief wiping furiously at his forehead. When our eyes met, he went, “you know I’m from Minnesota where it’s minus forty degrees.” I replied, “Welcome to Douala where its plus thirty degrees, I’m sorry the oppressive heat at this airport bites at the human skin like it has teeth.” The man shook his head in disappointment